


Baby Heather Button

by quiteheartless



Category: BBC Ghosts, Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: Alison/Mike baby, F/F, F/M, Growing Up, New Baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-04-07 07:53:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 18,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19080718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiteheartless/pseuds/quiteheartless
Summary: Alison and Mike's daughter had a complicated birth, but Alison wasn't prepared for her to also be able to see the ghosts at home. The ghosts are overjoyed and take it upon themselves to help raise Heather. (She's not really a Button, but it sounds better!)





	1. nov 2020

The door of Button House creaked open as Mike unlocked the door, the hallway dark and empty-  
Depending on who you asked. Alison, her skin pasty white and slick with sweat smiled exhaustedly at the crowd of ghosts leaning towards her. She clutched the baby closer to her chest and followed Mike into their home. Not for the first time, and definitely not for the last, she reflected on how unsuitable their house was for children. Ghosts really were the last of their problems.  
“Ooh, Alison!” Kitty cried. “Let me see, let me see!”  
“How is he? She?” The Captain cleared his throat, clearly trying not to look desperate.  
“Is it a boy or a girl?” Pat leant closer, peering at the baby’s face over Alison’s shoulder.  
“Is it healthy?” Fanny added. “You were gone a rather long time.”  
“Mike, I think you should take her,” Alison said, nudging her husband’s arm. He nodded, cradling their tiny daughter in his arms as he carried her up the rickety wooden stairs.  
“Alison,” Kitty said again. “Tell us more! I want to know what happened! Is she okay?”  
Alison sighed. “Guys, I’m exhausted. Come on.”  
“Well, tell us her name at least,” Thomas said. Robin grunted in agreement.  
“Heather,” Alison said, pushing the door to the baby’s room open. “After Lady Heather Button. We…”  
“It felt right,” Mike said, staring at an empty wall with a smile. Alison quietly pointed him in the direction of the crowd of ghosts and covered baby Heather with a blanket, gently caressing her tiny face. “After everything she’s done for us.”  
“Intentionally or otherwise,” Alison added quietly to Mike. He laughed.  
She glanced around at the ghosts with a smile.  
“Fanny? Are you alright?”  
“Hm? Oh yes. Perfectly.” She cleared her throat, her eyes glistening with tears. “It’s a lovely name.”  
Alison smiled. “I thought you’d like it.”  
“Well, Alison. You ought to get some sleep before the wet nurse arrives, don’t you think?”  
Even in her fatigue, Alison barked a laugh. “Wet nurse?” She shook her head. “Wow, Fanny, we can barely afford a baby, let alone a wet nurse.”  
“You plan to feed her yourself?” Fanny asked, horrified.  
“Yes, Fanny. And by the way, none of you are allowed in the room when we’re feeding.”  
“Wh-” the Captain spluttered. “That’s despotic!”  
“Except you, Cap,” Alison sighed. “And Kitty and Mary and Fanny. And Pat. And Robin, I guess.”  
“So what you’re really saying is no Julian or Thomas?”  
Alison paused. “Yeah, pretty much.”  
“My dearest lady-” Thomas protested.  
“Point in case. I’m going to bed,” Alison said, sliding her fingers into Mike’s and letting him guide her to their bed.

“Right then,” the Captain said, as soon as Alison and Mike had left the room. “Off you all go.” He couldn’t help but stare at the tiny human in the cradle, her minute hands curled against the blanket. She was quite small enough to move a grown man to tears, and make him quite oblivious to whatever Thomas was saying. He glanced up. “What was that?”  
Thomas sighed dramatically. “I said, who put you in charge? We all want to make sure she’s okay.”  
“And I’m sure you all will, in your own time.”  
“Have you even any experience with children,” Thomas sneered. “Why should you get to stay?”  
“More to the point, why should we all have to go? It’s not like we’re disturbing her,” Pat said, a soft smile on his face. “We’re ghosts, after all.”  
Baby Heather opened her mouth in a yawn, her eyelids still scrunched up tight, and reached out her tiny hand. The Captain’s heart skipped a beat and he returned his gaze to her, his heart tight with love. “Well, I suppose you can stay,” he said gruffly. “So long as you don’t make any noise. We’ve no reason to say for certain that she can’t hear us.”  
Thomas frowned, but the Captain ignored him. When Alison and Mike - or more accurately, Alison - had announced her pregnancy, he’d been somewhat unenthusiastic. A messy, dirty baby leaving trails of drool everywhere, messing up the house, making far too much noise… it was hardly his idea of heaven. But seeing her here, for real, he knew that he would go to the ends of the earth for her, if that’s what she needed.  
She stirred slightly, tossing under her blankets, and his heart stopped for a moment.  
“She’s fine,” Mary said, pushing to the front of the crowd of ghosts. “She’s not blue, sos she’s still alive.”  
“Very astute, Mary,” he replied quietly as baby Heather settled back down. He’d almost forgotten, in the long decades since he’d passed, how he’d wished for children of his own. He’d never been able to picture himself settling down with a woman - he still couldn’t, but he was dead now, and it no longer mattered - but the children were always there. God knew he wouldn’t picture himself with a man, but somehow he’d find someone to raise his children with.  
It was too late for him now, but Alison and Mike were just getting started. He knew with utmost certainty that he would rather die again a hundred times than anything happen to Heather.  
“Feeling broody, Cap?” Julian asked, nudging his shoulder. He schooled his face into an expression of disgust.  
“Now now,” he said. “Come along. Everybody out. We must let Heather sleep.”  
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Julian whispered in his ear as the Captain ushered everyone out of Heather’s room, dutifully ignoring their complaints. 

Once they’d all cleared off, the Captain meandered through the house before taking up a position outside Heather’s door. He stood to attention, glad to be of some tactical use once again, and drummed his fingers anxiously against his swagger stick. The image of Heather wouldn’t leave his head, her tiny hands and scrunched up eyes, still too weak to even open her eyelids. She needed protecting, and he would always be there for her.  
He soon fell into a habit; every night, after Alison put the baby to bed, he would avoid the ghosts for long enough that they assumed he’d gone for the night, then wander his way down to stand guard outside Heather’s door. Although he knew that Alison and Mike used a baby monitor, and were primed to jump to action at any minute, he didn’t trust the new fangled machines, and felt much safer to wait there himself. Just in case.  
One such night, he fell into his usual semi-conscious stupor that worked best to keep his energy up while standing guard, and stood for hours. As the bell struck midnight, he heard a slight noise, and tensed, ready to move at a moment’s notice.  
“Boo!” he heard through the wall.  
“Damn it, Robin,” he snapped, phasing back through the wall and into the nursery.  
Robin was staring down at the baby, his face contorted into an expression of extreme discomfort. He was thinking again. Heather stared up at him, her blue eyes illuminated by the silvery light of the moon. Just as the Captain was about to rip into Robin, her mouth opened and she let out a bubbling laugh.  
Robin’s dirty face broke into a grin. “Boo,” he said again, and baby Heather’s face lit up with chortling giggles. The Captain’s scolding words died in his mouth, his heart ready to burst at the bubbling joy Heather exuded.  
He glared at Robin anyway; the bastard was smirking at him, he was sure of it. “She likes me,” Robin said.  
“Yes, maybe,” the Captain spluttered; his heart was melting at her beaming smile, “but she needs sleep.”  
Robin mulled this over. “Okay,” he said.  
The Captain frowned. “Okay?”  
Robin shrugged. “Okay. I go.”  
“Ah, then, good chap,” the Captain replied, forcing a smile. He hadn’t expected Robin to be so compliant, lord knows he wasn’t usually.  
“I like her,” Robin said, frowning as he tried to work out the right words. “Baby… not scared. She trust. So I make sure… trust good.”  
“Very good,” the Captain said. “Now, go on.”  
Robin stared at him through narrowed eyes, then shrugged amiably and wandered off, probably to scare some chickens. They’d been a fantastic investment by Alison, he mused. Robin loved scaring them, and it kept him out of trouble.  
His eyes flickered over to Heather again, and he found himself standing beside her crib. He reached down, smiling as she reached out for his finger, and brushed her cheek, trying not to wince as his finger phased through her flesh. It was worth it. She babbled contentedly, her eyes drifting shut, and the Captain had an idea.  
Within five minutes, he’d recruited Julian, who was desperately trying not to make a sound as he tried to rock the crib gently from side to side. The curved legs rocked slightly, lulling Heather to sleep, and Julian collapsed back with a heavy exhalation as the crib set into oscillation.  
“Thank you,” the Captain whispered.  
“She’s so small,” Julian replied.  
Somehow, the sun was rising; they had stayed at Heather’s side all night. She stirred, opening her mouth to scream for milk. By four months, they were lucky she was sleeping through the night, but it didn’t stop her using the full capacity of her lungs as an alarm clock.  
Alison arrived a few minutes later, shooting a glance at Julian and the Captain that meant, quite clearly, off you go, and for once, the Captain did as he was told.


	2. march 2021

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cap likes babies

The Captain bade goodnight to Alison and Mike (via Alison, unfortunately) and resumed his nightly position outside Heather’s door. The other ghosts had given up teasing him for it now, and he’d given up pretending that he wasn’t on guard. There was no real point; they all knew the truth.

It seemed like so long ago that he’d been disappointed in Alison and Mike for choosing to bring a child into the house, and the memory confused him. Now, he couldn’t bear the thought of her not being there. She filled a hole in his heart - in all of their hearts. He could feel it; he was kinder towards the others. Fanny had become less sharp, Robin less mischievous (although barely), Julian less condescending. Any time the conversation lulled, their thoughts flickered towards the young child, rather than towards their dislike of each other.

It was almost pleasant.

As always, he tried to steer his thoughts away from his past, but any time he thought of Heather, he remembered _him_. He’d wanted kids just as much as the Captain had, and they could have been so happy. If… well. If so many things.

It didn’t matter now, of course. He was probably dead, passed on even. If not, he would have forgotten his captain by now, or moved on. Maybe he was married to a kind woman. They’d have five children together, and he’d love every one of them, more than he had loved the Captain. It was for the better.

A quiet cry shattered the Captain’s quiet reverie. There were tears in his eyes, he realised, and he blinked them away impatiently. His past didn’t matter; Heather was crying, and he phased immediately through the wall into her nursery.

 

Heather’s grey eyes were glossy with tears, her face wet with snot and spit and tears - everything the Captain had dreaded after the initial announcement, but he didn’t care. Not least because he was a ghost and couldn’t actually touch the disgusting fluids, but that was neither here nor there. Heather had been sleeping fitfully for the last week, keeping him more on edge than perhaps was fair to the other ghosts.

But this time was different, he was sure of it. She was ill, surely, her face red, her tiny hands twisted in the heavy blanket that must be suffocating or overheating her, even in the chill of March snows - which were becoming increasingly frequent, he realised bitterly. This was no time to be raising a child.

“Heather,” he whispered, “shh, it’s okay.”

But her gasping, choking sobs weren’t letting up, and her chubby arms twisted tighter, the blanket twisting in knots, winding around her fragile neck-

“Alison,” he roared, setting Heather off again, into bigger, louder cries. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’ll be back with mummy.”

 

 

“Alison,” he hissed, leaning over their bed. She groaned loudly and turned over.

“Cap, it’s the middle of the night.”

“Heather’s crying, woman.”

“She’s a baby. She does that.”

“Alison, so help me-”

“Allie, what’s up?” Mike rolled over, pressing his arms tightly around Alison’s body.

She glanced over at him, ignoring the captain’s disdainful sigh, and smiled wearily. “Heather’s crying.”

“I can’t hear her.”

“No, but we have a very active community of baby monitors living here.”

Mike yawned with a sigh. “I can go. If you want.”

She smiled. “You’re an angel.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and she closed her eyes. The Captain swallowed anxiously and hurried back to Heather’s room, waiting for Mike to arrive.

 

Mike ambled into Heather’s nursery several minutes later, to the Captain’s growing impatience. He was followed by a curious Kitty and Pat, who huddled around the cradle, blocking the Captain’s line of sight. He frowned.

Heather’s bubbling cry calmed substantially as Mike scooped her into his arms, bouncing her on his shoulder, and he carried her downstairs to the kitchen. He pulled a sterilised bottle out of the cupboard and filled it with milk, then popped it in the microwave to warm, babbling nonsense at Heather all the time.

She was almost asleep by the time the milk was ready, but her sleepy mouth still latched on to the bottle, drinking hungrily as Mike sang quietly to her. The Captain smiled, staring at the tiny human in Mike’s arms as her eyes closed slowly. Soon, she was finished, and Mike carefully burped her before tucking her back up in bed, leaving the blanket loosely over her, rather than suffocatingly tight.

Heather opened her eyes as she hit the mattress, and beamed toothlessly at Mike, babbling something nonsensical as she slipped back to sleep.


	3. December 2021

Alison sat on her knees, Mike crouched at the other side of the hallway, holding Heather’s chubby hands in his. She pushed herself to her feet, using his hands for leverage and stability; she’d just about mastered standing on her wobbly legs, but walking was not so easy.  Her parents were sat maybe a metre apart, but though even their hands could touch, the short distance felt like miles to the one year old.

“Alright, kiddo,” Mike said, helping Heather turn to face Alison. “Can we walk to mummy?”

Heather beamed at Alison, who held her arms out, and let go of Mike’s hand, promptly tumbling to the floor. She scowled, and struggled back to her feet, and took two shaky steps, then two more, then fell into Alison’s arms.

Mike burst into applause, and Alison showered Heather with praise and kisses and cuddles, and the ghosts stuck their heads in to have a look.

“Oh, oh, did we miss it?” Kitty cried.

But she needn’t have feared, as Heather was back on her feet, a determined look on her face. The little girl stared at her father and marched across the corridor, latching onto his arm when she got close enough. Alison couldn’t conceal her smile, which lit up her entire face. She shuffled to the middle of the hallway, just slightly further away from Mike than before, somehow missing Thomas’ besotted gaze as he stared wordlessly at her. The rest of the ghosts watched Heather, with varying degrees of tears in their eyes and proud smiles on their faces.

Within ten minutes, Heather was fairly steady on her feet, and they decided to challenge her to walk the whole length of the corridor, almost five metres long. The ghosts lined the wall perpendicular to her journey, cheering her on, and she set off determinedly, letting go of Mike’s hand.

Step by step, she waddled closer to Alison, but as she passed the halfway mark, she seemed to have a change of heart, and veered off course. Mike furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, and Alison made eye contact with Kitty, who grinned. Heather knew full well that she couldn’t touch the ghosts - it had been the cause of _many_ tears a few months ago, when she decided that Pat had refused to give her a hug. She wouldn’t have-

Nope, never mind.

Kitty winced as Heather reached out her chubby arms to latch on to her skirts, and the one year old toppled straight over, landing face first on the floor. Kitty, flushing moved out of the way, apologies falling out of her mouth. The Captain sprung into action, his face contorting into an expression of rage.

“Katherine, how dare-”

Heather burst into tears.

“She’s _crying_ , Katherine, she’s hurt!”

Kitty’s lower lip wobbled. “I didn’t mean-”

“You reached out for her. You know she forgets we’re ghosts.”

“Cap,” Pat said calmly. “She’ll be fine.”

“No, Patrick. Katherine ought to know better. She’s been a ghost for hundreds of years.”

“And Heather’s been around for one!”

The Captain’s eyes burnt with rage, but he stepped aside hurriedly as Alison and Mike passed through him to scoop Heather up. The child wailed as they brushed the dust off her knees.

“Katherine, I’m disappointed.”

“Give it a rest, Captain,” Fanny snapped.

“It’s not her fault,” Julian said.

“Heather’s a child. She’s going to get hurt at some point.”

“Not if I can help it.”

“Well you can’t,” Julian said brusquely.

The Captain almost stumbled backwards. “Julian, I don’t think-”

“Will you all be quiet?” Alison snapped, and their arguments dissolved into silence. Heather’s frantic sobs calmed slightly. “Look, even I can hardly deal with all of you screaming at each other, and Heather’s only a baby.”

“Alison, I’m so sorry,” Kitty whispered.

“Kitty, it’s fine,” Alison replied. Heather, sitting at Alison’s hip, stretched out an arm towards Kitty, even through her dwindling tears. “And Cap, Pat’s right. Kids fall over. It’s what they’re best at. But it lets them learn, alright? It’s not Kitty’s fault, and Heather’s fine. Really.”

“Well-”

“No, I won’t hear it.” Alison’s shoulders relaxed as Mike wrapped his arms around hers, rubbing them gently. She took a deep breath and smiled at the older man. “Look, I know you all care, a lot, and I’m glad. But you can’t yell at each other when she does things that kids do. She loves you all a lot, and I know you all love her. But you’ve got to let her grow up as a kid, alright? As normal as she can be. Considering.”

Most of them nodded immediately, and wandered away with a smile or a wink, but the Captain stayed behind. Alison handed Heather to Mike, who took the cue and left to prepare some food for their daughter.

She waited for several seconds, but the Captain didn’t say anything. She hesitated, trying not to look directly at him lest she suffer his wrath, and leant against the wall. He was staring away from her, his face tense and slightly unhappy.

“Did you want kids?” She asked. “You know… before.”

For a moment, she thought he hadn’t heard, but his lips tightened and his gaze fell to the floor.

“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean-”

“No, no. It’s fine. I did… I suppose so, yes.”

“Complicated, huh?”

He nodded gratefully. “Something like that.”

“No one to settle down with?”

His face paled dramatically, his eyes trapped somewhere in the middle distance. She frowned.

“You alright, Cap?”

No response.

“Cap? Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

Someone knocked on the door; Mike walked in with Heather, and the Captain jerked back to reality, smiling down at the little girl. She reached out for him with sticky hands and he tutted gently.

“Bad idea, private,” he said, patting her gently on his head and trying not to wince as his hand passed through her skin. “Remember what happened with Kitty?”

Mike shot a glance at Alison and mouthed an apology as he set Heather down on the floor. “She wanted the Captain,” he said. “I figured you’d know where he was.”

“She’s found him already,” Alison said, smiling down at their daughter, who was toddling circles around the Captain’s legs. “I’ve never seen him this happy,” she whispered.

Pat stuck his head through the wall. “Me neither,” he said. Alison rolled her eyes and laughed.

“Were you spying on us?”

“No.”

“Listening through the wall?”

“Absolutely not.”

Heather toppled over mid-giggle and the Captain froze as her laughter ceased. Alison paused, wondering what would happen, but he simply took a seat in front of her and started playing peek-a-boo. She smiled. Somehow she knew that everything would be alright.


	4. February 2022

That February was long and damp and cold, and no more enjoyable for the grizzly 18 month old that now lived there. The ghosts loved her, as did her parents, but the endless smiling phase had passed, leaving a miserable hole in its place. And the constant whining was not helped by the fact that Heather refused to sleep through the night.

They’d been lucky, at the start; Heather had been a cheerful, easy baby, despite her difficult birth, and slept through the night from a mere three months of age. But that early good fortune appeared to have worn off, because every time Alison or Mike left the room for Heather to go to sleep, she would scream.

Even the Captain, who seemed to have taken his self-inflicted duties as Heather’s second father more seriously than the others, was growing snarkier and angrier as the sleepless nights wore on.

That night, as per the night before and the night before that and the night before that, Heather woke them up screaming at midnight. Mike sat up, his head in his hands.

“We have to do something,” he groaned.

“I’m not sleeping in her room,” Alison replied. “Cap does that anyway.”

“I’m sorry?”

Alison shrugged. “He really likes babies.”

“Sounds like a bit of a creep-”

“I am not a creep,” the Captain said hotly, inches away from Alison’s ear. She jumped.

“Dude, what the hell?”

“She’s crying again.”

“I can hear that.”

“Well, what are you going to do about it?”

Alison swung her legs out of bed with a heavy sigh and slipped her feet into her favourite fluffy slippers.

 

Heather screamed even louder as Alison pushed the door open, only quieting when she flipped the lights on. Alison scooped her daughter up, glaring at the Captain as he hovered nervously around her. As she jostled the toddler on her hip, she cooed gently until Heather’s cries stopped altogether. She took Heather down to the sitting room, figuring that she wasn’t going to get any sleep anyway, and sat her on her lap.

“Right, what’s up?” she said, although Heather couldn’t really piece together more than two words at a time.

“Mummy,” Heather said.

“Yes, mummy’s here. But mummy’s sleepy.”

“Sleepy.”

“Shall we go back to bed? Are we going to sleep this time?”

“No.”

“No?” That was unexpected.

“Don’t want.”

Alison frowned. “Why not?”

“No.”

“Can mummy help?”

“No go.”

“No, Heather. I can’t stay. I have my own room.”

“Daddy.”

“Daddy has his own room as well.”

Heather’s bottom lip quivered.

“Why do you want us to stay? What’s wrong?”

“No go.”

“Cap’s there with you.”

Heather screwed up her face. She still didn’t have a solid grasp of conversation - not that Alison blamed her, she was barely older than a baby.

“Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Thirsty?”

“No.”

“Do you need the toilet?”

“No.”

“Are you tired?”

A pause, a yawn, then a quiet “‘es.”

“Shall we go back to bed then?”

Heather balled her fists against Alison’s chest but didn’t refuse. Alison, still exhausted, took this as an agreement, and picked up her daughter, balancing her on her hip and switching the light off. The moment darkness fell, Heather began to cry again.

“Ah,” Alison said, flipping the lights back on. “Heather, are you scared of the dark?”

Heather didn’t say anything.

“How do you feel when we go away at bedtime?”

“No,” Heather said.

“You don’t like it?”

“No.”

“Is it because we’re going? Or because you can’t see?”

She struggled with that, and Alison tried to rephrase the question.

“Should I leave the light on?”

That didn’t work either.

She flipped the light off. “Is that okay?”

“No.”

“Even with your eyes closed? For sleeping?”

“No.”

Alison left the light on after tucking Heather back into bed, and they weren’t woken again the night.

 

On her way home from work the next day, Alison popped into the supermarket and picked up a present for Heather. That evening, as Mike put Heather to bed, she unboxed the gift and plugged it into the wall.

As if on cue, Robin appeared, mischief glowing in his eyes.

“If you ever want to sleep again, don’t you _dare_ ,” Alison warned. He nodded but stayed in the room, watching curiously. As Mike switched the overhead lights off, Heather opened her mouth to cry, and Alison flicked on the nightlight.

She stepped backwards, out of the light of the projection, and smiled as Heather gazed awestruck at the lights on her ceiling.

“Nice,” Mike whispered in her ear.

But Alison wasn’t watching him or Heather anymore; she stared at Robin, who was transfixed, tears in his eyes, at the sight of the moon on the ceiling. The rest of the ghosts congregated slowly, clearly wondering why the nightly screaming session hadn’t yet begun, and Pat smiled softly at Robin’s fixed gaze.

“It’s lovely, isn’t it?”

Robin grunted in agreement, still staring up at the light.

In time, the rest of the ghosts dissipated, ready to get some rest for the first time in weeks, but Robin stayed, still transfixed. When Heather stirred later that night, she turned her head to the side and saw him sat beside her. She giggled.

“'S?” she said, and he glanced over at her.

“Moonah,” he replied. “Moonah always there. Now inside.”

“Moonah?”

Robin pointed. “Moonah outside. And here. All change. Except moonah.”

“Moonah,” Heather said, her small mouth opening into a yawn.

“Moonah look after you.” Robin glanced over at the child lying beside him, but she’d fallen asleep.

 

That morning, as Alison walked into Heather’s room to wake her up, she was surprised to see Robin in the Captain’s usual position, standing guard beside her crib. He was still staring at the ceiling, but talking quietly to Heather, who was awake and standing holding the walls of the cot.

“That star… uhhh… that and that and that… big man in sky. Belt.”

“Orion’s belt?” Alison cut in.

“Yes. Orion,” Robin said. “And bright star and big pot and little pot and long stick and-”

“Bird?” Heather said.

“Yes, bird.”

Alison stifled a laugh, reaching down to pick Heather up. The little girl’s lip began to quiver.

“No mummy,” she said.

“Come on, it’s time for breakfast.”

“Don’t want.”

“Are you hungry?”

A pause. “Yes.”

“Let’s go, then,” Alison said, bending down to switch off the nightlight as she passed. Robin’s face fell, and Heather cried out.

“Stars! Moonah!”

“It’s daytime. You can’t see the stars in the day.”

Robin shrugged. “Okay. She right.”

Heather frowned. “Breakfast?”

“Yeah. Come on.”


	5. December 2022

 

 

Heather had moved into her bed a month ago, and while it had been great that she was able to go to bed herself, it was increasingly frustrating that she wouldn’t _stay_ in bed if she didn’t want to. And she very rarely wanted to.

So Alison had introduced a rota for the ghosts; each night one of them would sit at her bedside and talk at her until she fell asleep, usually of boredom. The Captain liked to feed her endless stories about tanks and battles; Robin spoke about the moon and stars, teaching her the - still wildly inaccurate - names he’d chosen for them; Mary would talk about raising livestock; Kitty about parties; and Pat liked to tell campfire stories. Julian was not allowed to give bedtime talks.

But Thomas was Heather’s favourite, at the moment. That evening, as Thomas followed Alison shyly into Heather’s bedroom, her face lit up. “Tom’s!” she cried. “Story!”

Alison grinned at him, planting a kiss on Heather’s head, switched on the nightlight and closed the door behind her. Thomas took a seat on the end of Heather’s bed. He cleared his throat. “Once upon a time…”

 

Once upon a time there lived a young princess named Heather.

_“That’s me!” Heather butted in. Thomas smiled._

_“That’s right.”_

She lived in a big castle in the country, with tall turrets and big gardens and a pet cat called-

_“Kitty!”_

_“Alright, called Kitty.”_

Heather and Kitty were best friends and Heather loved Kitty more than anything else in the world. But one day, when Heather woke up, Kitty wasn’t in her bed. She wasn’t eating her breakfast, and she wasn’t hunting mice, as she was wont to do.

_“What’s that?”_

_“It means that it’s something she enjoys doing and does a lot.”_

_“You could say.”_

_“Heather, story telling is an art-”_

_“Story.”_

_Thomas sighed. “Yes, princess.”_

Heather looked everywhere: she looked in the basement and in the attic, she looked in the wardrobe and under her bed. She even looked in her mummy and daddy’s room. But she couldn’t find Kitty anywhere.

She asked her mummy, “have you seen Kitty?”, but she didn’t know where the cat was.

She asked her daddy, “have you seen Kitty?”, but he didn’t know where the cat was either.

She asked everyone she could find: the cook didn’t know, the butler didn’t know, the maid didn’t know, the stable boy didn’t know and even the painter didn’t know.

So princess Heather decided to take matters into her own hands. She went to her room and changed from her pretty pink dress into her riding gear. She wore knee high boots, which were…

_“Pink!” Heather shouted gleefully._

She wore a pink riding jacket, purple trousers and a riding helmet with a tiara embroidered on the front, with real diamonds.

Then she went to the stables, and told the stable boy that she needed to look for her cat. He nodded solemnly-

_“What’s that?”_

_“Serious,” Thomas said, demonstrating. Heather nodded carefully, committing the word to memory._

And when he returned, the stable boy brought with him princess Heather’s unicorn.

_Heather’s eyes shone with excitement. She’d heard tales of princess Heather hundreds of times, but every time the unicorn made an appearance, she almost screamed. But she was getting tired, nestling into her pillow. Thomas continued with the story._

Princess Heather saddled up her unicorn, stroking its soft white fur, and rode off into the sky. Her unicorn was a very clever unicorn, because her unicorn…

_“Could fly,” Heather mumbled. This was her favourite line in Thomas’ stories, but her eyelids were beginning to close._

_“Shall I finish tomorrow?”_

_“No,” she said. “Now. Find Kitty.”_

Princess Heather and the unicorn soared through the sky, flying under a rainbow and twisting clouds into elaborate - fancy - structures. But Princess Heather couldn’t enjoy the ride as much as she normally did, because she missed Kitty too much.

But then, to Heather’s excitement, she spotted something moving on the ground. A big, fluffy calico cat, mostly black but with splotches of orange and white fur, walking in circles in a forest. Heather and her unicorn sailed down towards the cat, who bounded towards them and leapt into princess Heather’s arms as they reached the floor.

Princess Heather gave Kitty the biggest, tightest, fluffiest cuddle of all time, and they climbed back onto the unicorn and sailed away into the distance.

Soon, the three of them arrived back home, where her parents, the king and queen, were waiting. The king and queen reached out for Heather, who gave them both a big bear hug. Kitty jumped up between them and showered all three of them with happy cat kisses.

And they all lived happily ever after.

 

Thomas finished his story with a smile and glanced down at Heather. She was well and truly asleep now, her eyelids lightly closed and her breathing soft and regular. He stood up quietly, brushing his fingers through her hair despite the nausea he felt from touching her, and caught Alison’s eye as she watched them from the doorframe.

“That was a lovely story,” she said quietly.

Thomas flushed. “Well, I’ve been telling the others for years that I’m a competent writer, and really, it’s hardly my best work.”

She laughed. “You don’t need to tell me. She loves your stories.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “In fact, I think you’re her favourite. Don’t tell the others.”

“I’m… glad you think so, my love.”

“We can drop that, though,” Alison said sharply. “Goodnight.”

Thomas sighed wistfully and wandered through the house, dreaming up more adventures for Princess Heather and her unicorn.

 


	6. September 2023

 

 

Alison groaned, stretching out her back as she shuffled another stack of boxes into the middle of the attic. They hadn’t realised until recently what a wealth of stuff was locked away up there, and the summer months had been spent clearing out and sorting the various artefacts they found. Mike pulled something out of a box and tossed it towards her; she barely caught it as it skimmed past her fingers. She unravelled the scrunched up fabric to reveal a pink velvet dress, the front lined with small bows.

“Kitty,” she called, frowning. The ghost appeared barely seconds later.

“Yes, Alison?”

“Was this yours?”

Kitty glanced at it, and paled. She nodded. “I didn’t think… is there more?”

“Mike, are there any more dresses in there?”

“Think so,” Mike said, rummaging further down in the box.

“Can you hang them up?”

“Ghosts?”

“They were Kitty’s.”

“Wait, seriously? They’re genuine Georgian? Allie, think how much those will-”

“How much value they have to Kitty, that’s right,” she said firmly as Kitty wheeled around.

“Alison, you won’t sell them, will you? Oh, you can’t! I mean, you can, but I really- don’t.”

“We won’t sell them unless you’re completely happy with that, Kitty,” Alison replied.

Heather stood up from where she’d been sitting, entertaining herself with some of Fanny’s old toys, and toddled over to where Alison stood with Kitty. She reached out, her sticky fingers pressing against the soft fabric of the dress. Alison tugged it away sharply.

“Sticky fingers,” she said. “Don’t touch.”

Heather frowned.

“You don’t want to damage Kitty’s favourite dress, do you?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

Heather shook her head. “Don’t be sad. Don’t touch.”

Kitty smiled down at the little girl. “Heather, can you show me your toys again?” She asked, and Heather lead her back to her corner of the room. Alison sighed with relief and handed the dress back to Mike.

“We can’t sell them?”

“Not yet. She’s not seen them in years.”

“It’s a dress.”

“It’s all she has left. Come on, only a few boxes left.”

Mike passed her a pair of scissors and she sliced open the tape on the next box to look at. Resting on the top was a hat, clearly placed with extreme care. Alison picked it up, running her hands lightly over the scratchy green material, and dislodged a slip of folded paper that had been wedged inside the hat band. She moved to unfold it, then decided better of it.

“Cap,” she called.

Mike sighed. “Another one?”

“Don’t be mean, Mike.”

The Captain cleared his throat and Alison wheeled around, her heart pounding. Once again, he’d stood much too close to her. She forced a smile.

“I found something. Thought you might know about it?”

She held out the hat and he tried to take it, but his hand passed straight through it. He looked away.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

“No, it’s… hardly your fault.”

“Oh - I found this inside it,” she added, holding up the slip of paper. “Do you want me to open it or?”

“No, no, that won’t be necessary,” he said hurriedly. “Although are there… is there anything else?”

“Heather, come back!” Kitty cried.

“Cap!” The little girl ran over to them. “Hello.”

“Hello, Private,” the Captain replied, though his smile was tight.

“Do you want to see what we found, Heather?”

“No.”

“No no or yes no?”

“No.”

“Alright, then,” Alison said, shrugging.

“No!” Heather said again, tugging on Alison’s hand.

“You mean yes?”

“No.” Heather reached out, but withdrew before she touched the Captain’s hat. “No touch?”

Alison smiled. “You can touch it if you wash your hands.” She said, and Heather hurried off towards the bathroom. “I should follow her,” she said to the captain, flipping the box shut again. He nodded curtly, and followed them both.

 

Alison was still trying to dry the splashes of water from her shirt as Heather pulled impatiently at her arm.

“See,” she said. “See!”

Alison caught the Captain’s eye and he nodded slightly, so she picked the hat up gently and crouched down beside Heather. He knelt down next to them, his eyes watching them intensely. Alison held out the hat and Heather tapped it curiously.

“Can you tell me what it is?” Alison asked.

Heather thought. “Shoe,” she said, and collapsed into a heap of giggles.

Alison raised an eyebrow. “You want to put it on your feet? I don’t think that’s a good idea. How’s about we put it… here?” She said, dropping the hat lightly onto Heather’s head. Her face lit up, giggles bubbling from her small frame as the hat dropped down below her eyeline, and she ran circles around Alison and the Captain as they stood up.

“Careful, Heather. Don’t make yourself sick,” Alison said, then turned to the Captain. He was smiling fondly at the little girl, her hands carefully anchoring his hat to her head.

“Did you want to look through the rest of the stuff?” She asked quietly. “Or read the letter, even?”

He hesitated.

“I won’t look.”

“I know. I…” He glanced away, pursing his lips. “I would appreciate that. The letter, certainly.”

“Maybe leave the rest for another time?”

“Perhaps.”

Alison smiled thoughtfully at him and unfolded the letter, holding it out for him to read. She really wanted to know what it said, but it wasn’t any of her business. He read it quickly, his eyes skimming side to side as if he were devouring the message, andthen again, more slowly, savouring each word. By the middle of his third read-through, his eyes were sparkling with tears.

“You alright-” she started to say, then whirled around as a loud thud reverberated around the hall. She quickly folded up the letter and stuffed it into her pocket - hah!A jacket with pockets - before hurrying over to pick Heather up off the floor, trying not to laugh.

Heather clutched her head, her bottom lip wobbling dramatically. Alison knelt down, pushing the brim of the hat up so she could see her daughter’s face. Sure enough, a red bump was beginning to form.

“You’re alright, Heather, aren’t you?”

“No.”

“Yes, you are. Shall we go and get put some arnica on it?” That was a recommendation from her friend, who’d found out about it after her son had run into some French windows the day before the health visitor was due. Life saver, her friend had said.

“No,” Heather muttered.

“Yes, I think we should. Come on.” She whipped the hat off Heather’s head and slid her hand into her daughter’s. Heather’s eyes widened angrily.

“Hat. Mine.”

“When we’re downstairs. We aren’t trying steps if we can’t see, Heather. That’s a bad idea, isn’t it. Come on.”

“Hat.”

“Alright,” Alison relented, dropping the hat back onto Heather’s head and scooping her up to sit on her waist. “Let’s go.”

As she turned to pick Heather up, she noticed the Captain, who was still staring at the wall, deathly - hah - pale.

“Cap? You alright?”

No response. She’d have tapped his shoulder if he hadn’t been, well, a ghost, so she stood frozen, unsure of what to do. Heather squirmed in her arms.

“Captain?”

Still nothing. She set Heather down - she was getting heavy as she grew up - and walked over to him, waving a hand in front of his face. His skin looked grey, his eyes glistening.

“Pat?” She called, increasingly worried. “Kitty? Anyone?”

Robin ambled into the hall. “Okay?”

“I can’t… what’s wrong with him?”

Robin sniffed, running a hand through his matted hair, then tapped the Captain on the arm.

“Captain wake up?”

The Captain stirred slightly at the pressure on his arm, his unfocussed gaze alighting on Heather, who was looking at him tearfully.

“Good god, woman, why haven’t you done anything?” He snapped.

“Glad to see you back,” Alison said, her eyebrows still furrowed. “We were worried about you.”

“About me? Whatever for?”

“You kinda spaced out for a minute there. Heather’s fine, you know. She just fell… well, ran into a wall. Kids to that.”

“It was my fault,” the Captain said sharply. “I shouldn’t have…”

“You didn’t do anything,” Alison said. “I let her wear the hat. And really, she’s fine. Come on, let’s get her sorted out, alright?”

“Yes,” he said vaguely.

She raised an eyebrow. “And if I hear you blaming yourself one more time, I… well, it’ll be a shame. Alright? No more stressing.”

Scooping Heather back into her arms, she smiled at the Captain, and made her way downstairs. After a moment’s thought, he steeled himself and followed them.

Robin stared after the group, then shrugged and wandered off.


	7. December 2023

Alison could hear angry wails of another tantrum from the very top of their long, winding drive. She was almost impressed, except that the tantrums had been a daily affair for the last week. They’d known that it was common for first children not to be impressed with the idea of having to share their parents with another child, but this was beyond their expectations, and not in a good way. Her hand drifted subconsciously to her stomach, her fingers pressing like feathers against where their new child was being made.

With a sigh, she unlocked the door and closed it behind her. She pinched the bridge of her nose; after a long day at work, Heather’s screams were the last thing she wanted to return to.

“I’m sorry,” Mike whispered in her ear as he hugged her. “She’s been like this for half an hour.”

“What did you do?”

“What did _I_ do?”

“Why’s she upset?”

“I may have mentioned the baby.”

Alison sighed, and despite her hopes of a quiet evening, marched into the kitchen.

 

Heather glanced up as Alison entered, her screams subsiding a little, and just as Alison carefully engineered a congratulatory smile, the child returned to her screaming.

“Right, missy, what’s up?” Alison said, sitting on the floor.

Heather screamed.

“Use your words, or I can’t help.”

More screams.

“Can I do anything to make it better?”

Screams.

“No? You don’t want to fix your problem?”

Robin morphed through the wall and Alison felt her resolve crumple. This was not happening.

“Right then,” she said. “If that’s how it is, mummy’s going to bed. Feel free to find me when you’ve decided to use your words like a big girl.”

Another scream, which increased in pitch and intensity as Alison left the room. She didn’t care, shooting an unapologetic look at her husband. He stared imploringly after her, but she shook her head. “I can’t deal with this today,” she mouthed. “Sorry.”

Heather paused her incessant screaming for breath, and was rudely interrupted by Robin bellowing back at her. She stopped completely, taken aback, and turned to face him. All the residents of Button house gave a collective sigh of relief, but Heather was far from done. She narrowed her eyes, took a deep breath, and bellowed back at Robin.

He laughed, a deep laugh that echoed through his body. “Is best you can do? Hah.”

She clearly understood his complaint, and opened her mouth again for a better - or rather, louder - scream, but he cut her off. She was not impressed by this, aside from a healthy professional admiration, and screeched even louder.

For several minutes, they screeched back and forth, and even on the other side of the house, several pillows clamped over her ears, Alison could hear each yell as if they came from the end of her bed.

Finally, it faded. Robin thought for a moment, then walked over to the kitchen cabinet. He thrust his hand inside it, hoping Heather would get the hint, and she curiously pulled open the door. He pointed at the pans that rested inside, and her eyes lit up as she carefully wrestled the largest, heaviest pot out of the cupboard. She stumbled a little, but managed to place it carefully on the centre of the floor, watching in awe as Robin’s eyes scanned the room carefully.

He pointed to a wooden spoon resting on the worktop. She was too short to reach, but it dangled over the edge, and with a few meaningful jumps, she managed to bring the spoon clattering to the floor.

“Watch and learn,” Robin grunted, his eyes glinting mischievously. He mimed holding the spoon; she picked it up. Nodding appreciatively, Robin brought his hand down towards the pan, and she followed suit. The spoon made a dull bang, but she giggled excitedly.

Robin yelled and she yelled back and hit the pan again. They screamed and drummed back and forth until outside, Mike let out a roar of exhausted resignation and swung the door open.

“Heather, please,” he cried. “Just be quiet!”

She froze, her hand mid-air, and turned to face him. His shoulders slumped in relief and he opened his mouth to thank her, but a naughty smile slid onto her lips.

She brought the spoon down against the pan, and she and Robin set off screaming again, this time punctuated with tiny chortles of laughter and bright smiles, rather than angry tears. Mike supposed it was technically an improvement, and went to find Alison.

 

“Well,” Mike said, lifting the pillows gently from where Alison had balanced them over her ear. “She’s happy, at least.”

“This is happy?”

“She’s giggling and smiling, so I assume so.”

Alison groaned.

“She found the pots and pans.”

“I didn’t think she’d be this upset when we told her.”

“Nor did I. Allie, it’s not your fault.”

Alison sighed, sitting up and leaning her head on Mike’s shoulder. “Do you think it was a mistake?”

“We wanted another kid. Heather will get used to it.”

“I hope so.”

“Look, I have four siblings and I love them to bits. But I bet I wasn’t pleased when mum told me she was having another baby.”

Alison smiled. “You’re the youngest.”

“Yeah, well, I may have got my way but not everyone can.” He held her hand and she chuckled softly. “Allie, I think this is the right choice. Heather will come round.”

“And in the end, it’s not her decision,” Pat said. Alison jumped a mile. Mike frowned and waved in completely the wrong direction.

“Pat, what’re you doing?”

“Oh, I thought I should tell you that Heather’s trying to eat the wooden spoon.”

Alison sighed. “Okay, thanks, Pat.” She turned to Mike. “Heather’s trying to eat the spoon. Come on.”


	8. June 2024

 

Kitty and Thomas turned around as they heard the gentle pattering of feet. Thomas smiled as Heather beamed up at him, reaching out her hand to each of the ghosts.

“No touching, Heather,” Thomas said. “It’s painful.”

“Why?”

The ghosts sighed imperceptibly. ‘Why’ was Heather’s favourite word at the moment.

“Where are we going?” Kitty asked, carefully avoiding the question. For once, it worked.

“Party,” Heather replied. “Chop chop.”

Thomas and Kitty exchanged a glance and followed her; she’d left the room without bothering to check if they were coming with her. Of course they were.

 

Next on her guest list was Pat. She found him sat underneath a tree in the garden, staring out over the lake. She planted herself in front of him, mirroring his cross-legged position perfectly. He glanced down and smiled at her.

“Morning, missy,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

“Party,” she said.

“A party? That’s exciting.”

“Come on.”

“Well, alright then,” he said, shooting one last mournful glance across the lake. It had been forty years already…

“Why’re you sad?” She asked, beckoning for him to catch up.

“It’s my death day,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“It’s like my birthday, but for when I became a ghost.”

“What happened?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

She frowned, calling over her shoulder as she ambled off. “Hurry up or you’ll miss the party. And… only smiling. We’re _happy_.”

Pat laughed softly. “Alright then. I’m coming. Is there anyone else joining us?”

Heather ignored him and marched off towards the stables. They were long since empty - Heather had never known that animals were supposed to live there, but she did know that one of her guests liked to loiter by the mouldy bales of hay.

 

“Ooh, hello,” Mary said as she heard little feet arrive at her doorway. “Hows can I help yous?”

“Drink?”

“No, I can’ts do that, Heather.”

“I comed to find you. For… party.”

“A party? Well, that’s a little bits fancy for me, don’ts you thinks?”

“Why?”

“Why? Oh, well I's never been to a party in the house before.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I ‘as never invited.”

“Why?”

“I ‘as not as rich as the lady in ‘e House,” she explained.

“Why?”

“Well, ‘as just the way things are.”

Heather thought for a moment, screwing her entire face up in concentration, then her expression smoothed into a big smile. “Not now. Come on.”

“Well, if you’re sure.”

“Yep. Hurry. Chop chop,” she said, clapping her hands together with the last sentence. She giggled - she knew it was rude but her parents and Fanny weren’t there, and she delighted in her small rebellion.

 

Who next? She’d collected Thomas, Kitty, Pat, Mary… Fanny. Yes, Fanny should come. She’d know how to do parties _properly_. Thomas may have crowned her Princess Heather, but Fanny was the only one who could teach her how to become like her alter ego.

She knocked politely on the door to Fanny’s bedroom, and the old woman turned with a start. “Oh, Heather. Are you alright?”

“Yes. You come to tea party.”

“I’m sorry?”

“My party. Come on.”

“You… me? You want me to come?”

“Etty-kit,” Heather said, carefully parroting Fanny’s favourite word. She mimed holding a cup, carefully stretching out her pinkie finger. Fanny pressed her fingers to her lips, stifling a smile.

“Of course, dear. Let’s go.”

 

Heather led her assortment of ghosts into the small dining room and pulled chairs out for them, leaning her whole tiny body into it. Realising she’d never be able to climb onto one of the chairs herself, she found a step and used it to climb up to sit at the table. Her forehead was just visible over the top of the chair without her booster seat in place and she sighed with enough flair to rival Thomas before reluctantly climbing to her feet and commencing the party.

“Tea,” she announced, and carefully poured six imaginary cups of tea from her imaginary kettle. She picked the first one up, blew on it - spraying spit all over the table - then handed it daintily to Pat. “Pass ’t on,” she said seriously, and Pat dutifully passed the imaginary cup to Mary, who passed it to Thomas, who passed it to Kitty, who passed it to Fanny, who pretended to take a sip. Heather nodded appreciatively.

She repeated the same business with the rest of the cups, then picked up her own. She stared at Fanny, then pricked up her little finger. The rest of her guests followed suit, stifling giggles and heart-burstingly warm smiles.

“Cake!” She cried suddenly, her imaginary teacup forgotten. “Where’s the cake!” She shook her head with a sigh, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Not a party without cake. I’m bad.”

“Oh, Heather, don’t say that. Here, I bought cake. Don’t worry,” Pat said with a gentle smile. Thomas caught his eye and grinned.

Heather closed her eyes, a serious expression on her face, and bowed her head. “Thank you, Patrick.”

Kitty snorted, hastily disguising it as a cough when Heather looked up. The little girl reached out and took the ‘cake’ that Pat offered, and sliced it into six equal slices. She pushed it to the middle of the table. “You can take it.”

She didn’t wait for them to reach out, but grabbed her own imaginary slice and pushed the whole thing into her mouth. She pretended to chew on it, bulging her cheeks out and opening her mouth wide.

Fanny stared at her. “A lady does not eat with her mouth open.”

Heather pressed her lips tightly together and looked up at Fanny with big, baleful eyes. Fanny smiled.

“Much better-” she began, then recoiled as Heather let her jaw drop again. The three-and-a-bit year old burst into mischievous chuckles, leaning heavily on the table as she guffawed. Fanny tutted, her cheeks burning, but couldn’t stop the smile that etched itself onto her face. The other ghosts exchanged glances, trying to stifle their laughter, but Heather knew full well the effect that her misbehaviour was having. “Oh, Heather,” Fanny sighed.

Heather pretended to swallow, then opened her mouth wide. “All done.”

“Is there a reason for this party?” Thomas asked, and the ghosts all listened for an answer to the question they were all wondering. “We’re very happy you invited us-” the rest nodded and murmured in agreement- “but it is a little out of the blue.”

Heather clasped her hands together, clearing her throat. “Mummy and daddy are bringing home... a new baby,” she said, trying and failing to keep the disdain out of her voice. “I’m princess, so I have to show the baby who’s in charge.” It was a long sentence for the little girl, and Thomas smiled proudly as she made her decree. “That’s me, ob... obviously. Thomas, you’re my ad… ad… helper. Fanny, you teach etty-kit, and made me a good princess. Kitty an’ Pat an’ Mary… you’re nice.”

The ghosts choked back a laugh. “What about the others?” Pat asked.

Heather shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Julian?” She said derisively.

The doorbell chimed. “Heather?” Her grandmother’s voice floated through the house. She jumped down from the chair and ran down towards the front door, almost colliding with Mike’s mother as she arrived.

 

“Careful, Heather,” her grandmother said, hoisting Heather up onto her hip as she swung the door open. The party ghosts crowded around, and were shortly joined by everyone else. Heather leant forward as Alison and Mike came into view.

“Mummy!” She cried.

“Well? Is the baby okay?” Cap demanded. “What is it?”

“How are you, Alison?” Mike’s mum asked softly, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Alright, actually, Lucy,” Alison replied, reaching out for Heather. She scrambled across into her mother’s arms and peered across to look at the baby in Mike’s gentle grip.

“It’s very small,” she said. “Did you do it wrong?”

Alison laughed. “No, Heather. You were that small when you were born. Smaller, actually.” She glanced around at the ghosts, then back at Lucy. “She’s called Nell. Totally normal birth. Much easier than you,” she added, kissing Heather on the forehead. “Was she alright, Lucy?”

“She’s very good at entertaining herself, isn’t she?”

Alison forced a laugh. “Yeah. Something like that.”

“You go up to bed, Alison,” Lucy said. “You should rest.”

Alison nodded, setting Heather down on the floor, and wandered upstairs, holding Mike’s free hand. Heather pushed past her grandmother and the ghosts, and followed her parents.

 

She found herself pressed up against the cot, her face peeking through the bars that her hands clutched, watching Nell sleep, her breathing rhythmic and shallow. The Captain stood behind her, tears in his eyes as he watched the sleeping child. Alison had fought with him to stop him sleeping in Heather’s room, about two years ago, and Heather suddenly knew that he would be curled up at Nell’s side that night, and for many more nights.

She’d been avoiding him, a little, she realised; he was possessive in a strange way, and it unsettled her. But now, looking at the love in his eyes for her little sister, she missed it already.

Well, there were ways to fix her problems, she thought. Nell was only a few hours old, and she’d been around for more than three whole _years_. She was the princess of the Cooper-Button household, and she would remain the princess until she no longer desired that title.


	9. November 2024

Heather drummed her fingers on the table as she waited for her parents to finish having a rather boring conversation with Nell. Her sister was five months old now, and Heather was quite underwhelmed by her conversation making skills. Besides, she took up so much of her parents’ time. Completely unfair.

A slight movement and a grunt of pain caught her attention.

Humphrey’s head.

She was four, now, and old enough to know better. She’d had more than enough accidents to learn that ghosts and livings, as they affectionately called her, were not able to touch. Regardless, she was fed up, so slid off her chair and wandered over to him.

“Hello,” she said.

“Give us a hand, will you?”

“I’ll try.”

“You alright, Heather?” Mike called over. She glanced up.

“Mmm.” She bent down and reached out towards Humphrey’s head. He closed his eyes and her fingers brushed against his cold skin. She jumped a mile. “Ahh!”

“What’s up?” Mike asked.

“Nothing,” she lied, and crouched down again. She lowered her voice. “Did you know I could do that?”

“Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

“I’m alive!”

“You are?”

“You were here when I was born.”

“I was born once too.”

“Not four years ago.”

“Who knows, anymore.”

“ _Not_ four years ago. I was born four years ago.”

“If you say so. Look, can you just pick me up and go and find my body?”

Heather paused. “Alright,” she said, and slid her fingers under his head. She lifted the decapitated head, which pressed coldly against her chubby fingers. He was heavier than she’d expected, and she hurried out of the room as quickly as she could, in the hope that her mother wouldn’t notice.

“Right, so my body?” Humphrey said hopefully. Heather ignored him. She had better plans.

 

“Are you sure this is the right way?” Humphrey asked dubiously as Heather wound her way up staircase after staircase, heading straight for the attic. The Captain had claimed the room for himself after Alison and Mike had cleared it out, seemingly attached to the boxes of his stuff that he could no longer rummage through. Heather didn’t really care why - she was headed for the bookshelf in the corner. It was securely attached to the wall, and she’d worked out that if she climbed it, she could easily reach the top. And, after a lot of practice - and several tumbles, generally scaring the Captain out of his skin - she’d managed to perfect the art of climbing the bookshelf one handed, which allowed her to place and receive things at the top.

Things like Humphrey’s head.

“Yes,” she said, “your body is friends with the Captain now.” She smiled brightly.

“How does he - I mean, I - get up the stairs?”

“Cap’s veerrrry strong.”

She couldn’t see, because she was still carrying him, but Humphrey raised his eyebrows in appreciative surprise. “Interesting,” he mumbled.

Heather knocked lightly on the door - no response. Result.

She pushed it open and stepped inside, giggling to herself as she quietly closed the door. She padded lightly over to the bookshelf, scaled it quickly, and placed Humphrey’s head on the top shelf, patting his hair.

He sighed. “My body doesn’t come up here all the time, does he - _I_ \- do I?”

“I’ll get him. You,” Heather lied, jumping down.

“I’ll just stay here,” Humphrey replied miserably.

“I know.”

 

Twenty minutes later, Heather stifled another giggle as she shut the attic door behind her. Two down, one to go.

Where would the Captain be? The nursery, probably, she thought with a sneer. Staring at Nell again.

She hurried down the stairs and into Nell’s room, schooling her face into an expression of what she thought was appropriate tearfulness.

“Heather, are you alright?” Pat asked as she turned the corner. She let her scrunched up features relax.

“Where’s the Captain?”

Pat paused. “Ooh, I don’t know. Shall we have a look?”

Heather nodded. Pat reached out to take her hand, before thinking better of it, and the two of them wandered through the house.

“What’s up, then?” Pat asked as they looked for the Captain. “Did something happen?”

Heather nodded sadly, but didn’t venture any more information. Pat had to stifle a smile as he watched her, mischief glowing in her eyes.

“I’m sure the Captain will be happy to help,” he continued.

“Did you know I can pick up Humphrey’s head?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “Can you?”

“Yes. Do you know why?”

He shook his head. “I wish I did. Do you?”

“No. What happened to him?”

“Well, in the past, kings liked to chop off people’s head if they didn’t agree with him.”

She glanced up at him. “Really?”

“Yep. Horrible, if you ask me.”

She giggled. “I think it’s cool.”

“Don’t say that to Humphrey. How would you like it if that were you?”

She frowned. “I don’t know.”

They turned a corner and her face lit up with the same mischievous energy. “Cap!” she cried, thrusting out her lower lip. “Captain, I need your help.”

He glanced up and walked over to them. “Don’t worry, Patrick, I can take it from here.”

“Alright, Cap,” Pat said, winking at Heather. She carefully refused to giggle, staring up at the Captain with big eyes.

“Come with me,” she said, holding out her hand. He closed his eyes for a moment, a flicker of emotion passing over his stony features.

“No hand holding, Heather. Be sensible.”

She nodded. “Come on.”

 

She knocked softly on the attic door, Cap hovering behind her. Humphrey let out a faint moan and she forced out a shout of fear. “It’s still there,” she whispered.

“Don’t worry, Heather. I’m sure it’s nothing to be scared of.”

“You first,” she said, pushing open the door - not that he needed it, she realised too late. But it didn’t matter; this only made it easier for her to watch.

The Captain frowned as he looked around, then let out a muffled scream as Humphrey’s body lumbered towards him. Heather bit down on her knuckles to stop herself laughing.

“Oh come on, you useless lump,” Humphrey’s head moaned. “I’m over here!”

The Captain jumped a mile, drawing his swagger stick like a sword as he stared around the room. The headless body collided with the wall several times before the Captain looked u, spluttering wordlessly as he finally noticed Humphrey’s head. “How did you get up there?” He cried.

“The little girl,” Humphrey moaned.

“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s alive. She can’t touch ghosts. Besides, how would she get up there?”

“Why don’t you ask her?” Humphrey asked, glaring down at Heather. She jumped, remembering too late to pretend to be afraid. The Captain glared at her.

“This is a waste of military time, young lady,” he snapped, “and shall be dealt with accordingly-”

She didn’t hear the rest; she was already running down staircase after staircase. She accidentally ran straight through Thomas, who whirled around with an insult on his lips, but she was gone before he remembered how to speak. Moments later, the Captain collided with him. This time, both parties rattled off insults, until they were interrupted by an ear-piercing scream.

 

Heather had avoided the basement at her parent’s request until now, but decided that for the moment, hiding was the better option. She swung the door open, pressing her back against it, then jumped up to reach the light switch.

The old bulb slowly flickered on, and tens of pairs of eyes stared down at her curiously. Their faces were blotchy, covered in large pustules and blisters and dirt, their hair limp and rank; even their clothes were plagued with holes and dirt and ghost fleas.

“Hello,” one of them said. “Who’re you?”

She screamed, and bolted out of the basement.

“Well now you’ve done it, Nige. You scared her off.”

“Oh, come off it, Nick.”

 

Alison jumped as she heard Heather scream, and glanced at Mike.

“Was that-”

He nodded. Alison placed Nell in her cot and the two of them sprinted towards the sound.

They found her cowering in the kitchen, in floods of tears, and immediately wrapped her in a hug until she’d calmed down enough to talk. Mike fetched a box of tissues and helped her clean away her tears and snot as Alison brushed her (now damp) hair out of her face, running her fingers rhythmically through her daughter’s soft locks.

“What happened?” Alison asked gently as Heather’s frantic breathing began to slow.

“I’m sorry,” Heather choked out. “I didn’t mean to!”

“It’s okay,” Mike said, glancing at Alison. Her face registered the same confusion he felt. “You can tell us.”

“The basement,” she managed, before collapsing into fits of tears.

Alison’s shoulders slumped and she held Heather closer. “Oh, Heather, I’m sorry.”

“What’s in the basement?” Mike asked. “I mean, the boiler - and we said not to go in there, but…”

“I’m sorry!” Heather wailed.

“No, it’s fine. You didn’t touch anything, did you?”

She shook her head frantically.

“What scared you?”

She hesitated, tears bubbling over. “There’s so many,” she whispered.

Alison brushed Heather’s hair gently over her shoulder. “It’s okay, they won’t hurt you.”

“Ghosts?” Mike asked. Alison nodded.

“The plague ghosts. They’re… not exactly America’s next top model.” She turned back to Heather. “They’re very friendly,” she said.

Heather shook her head violently. “Why are they…?” She trailed off, unable to find the words she needed.

“I know, I know. I was scared when I met them too.”

“You were?” Heather glanced up, sniffing. Mike passed her another tissue which she vaguely pressed to her face. He wiped her nose and tossed the soggy paper into the bin.

Alison nodded. “They’re not pretty, are they? Although, I think they might object to that,” she laughed. “Do you want to say hello to them properly? They’ve been excited to meet you.”

“To meet me?”

“Well, you saw them as a baby. They want to know how big you’ve grown.”

“Why?”

Alison shrugged. “Grown ups like that sort of thing. Do you want to say hi again?”

Heather shook her head slightly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to,” Alison said. “Maybe later.”

“No,” Heather said, and yawned. She rubbed her eyes, her eyelids beginning to droop.

“Looks like it’s bedtime for you, doesn’t it?”

She looked up at her father indignantly. “No!” she cried. “What time is it?”

Mike glanced at the clock. “Half past five.”

“No.”

“Well, let’s have tea, at least. Is that okay?”

Heather nodded. “Fish fingers,” she whispered in Mike’s ear as he scooped her up.

“Fish fingers?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. “Well, what does mummy think?”

“Mummy thinks you’ve been very brave today,” Alison acquiesced. “Alright.”

“Yes,” Heather cheered, her fright all but forgotten.

Alison regretted her decision as soon as she saw the Captain’s stony expression. But perhaps scolding could wait for another day.


	10. May 2025

Heather snorted with wild laughter as she chased Julian in circles along the corridor. Nell had been driving her up the wall recently; how hard was it to sleep through the night? She’d been doing it for years, and sleeping was all that Nell seemed able to do in the daytime, so why was it so hard when everyone else was trying to sleep. And, as it tended to do, the frustration and tiredness had combined into a bout of extreme hyperactivity. She was still four, after all.

The ghosts were apparently as fed up with Heather as she was with Nell, but she didn’t really care. They were grown ups, after all, and could learn to deal with it. Except Jemima, who Thomas had mentioned once. But she’d never actually met Jemima, and was beginning to wonder if she had a different contract due to child labour laws and would therefore never show up past the first episode. Julian, however, was ever so slightly more willing to play than the others, so she seized the opportunity with open grubby palms, and chased him throughout the house.

“Now now now listen here, Heather. This is getting quite ridiculous, don’t you think? You’re four years old, that’s more than old enough to know better-”

She ignored him and ran straight through one of his legs. He hissed in pain, letting out a string of words she didn’t understand.

“Fuck,” she said back to him and he closed his eyes in horror.

“Don’t you dare say that,” he said.

“Fuck,” she said again, snickering under her breath.

“Heather, if any of the others hear you say that, they’ll kill me all over again.”

She opened her mouth wide and he shook his head violently. She twisted her legs together coyly, bending forward and batting her eyelashes. “Fu-” she began, then stumbled, her twisted legs buckling beneath her. Julian’s heart would have stopped, had it still been beating, and he saw her begin to fall as if in slow motion. Her face crinkled up, her mouth shaping into an o as she began to scream.

He reached out, knowing full well there was nothing he could do and grabbed her by the front of her shirt.

 

Mike frowned as he heard his eldest daughter shouting expletives, and wandered through the house trying to find her. As he pushed open a door, her swearing turned to screaming and he bolted around the corner towards the stairs and the source of the sound. His heart stopped beating, trapped in his throat, and his stomach clenched as he caught sight of her.

Heather was flying through the air, plummeting towards the hard wooden steps, when she suddenly froze in midair, and began moving upwards, slowly but surely. Mike forgot how to breathe for a second, then rushed up the stairs and grabbed her gently from the… ghost, probably, that was lifting her up. She slumped heavily into his arms, her scream dying in her throat, and he carefully carried her back to the top of the stairs before placing her down.

“Thank you,” he whispered to the air, but Julian wasn’t listening; he was stood silently, shaking. The Captain phased through the wall, followed by Humphrey, now reunited with his body.

“I heard swearing,” the Captain said, narrowing his eyes. “What’s going on?”

Julian didn’t respond, still staring blankly at Heather as she cried in Mike’s arms.

“I say, Julian, what’s happened?”

“What happened, Heather?” Mike asked softly, stroking her hair.

“Fell,” she stuttered out between sobs. “Didn’t mean… I was playing. ”

“You were playing at the top of the stairs?” The Captain snapped, eyes glued to Julian’s shellshocked expression. “By god, why, man?”

Julian shook his head. “No, I didn’t…”

“Not… fault!” Heather cried, looking behind Mike to stare at the Captain.

“I thought you knew better than this.”

“Cap, don’t you think you’re being a little…” Humphrey began, but trailed off at the venomous glare the Captain sent him. “No? Alright, then.”

“She’s four, Julian. She may not know better but you damn well ought to.”

“I didn’t do anything, Cap!” Julian snapped, his eyes finally tearing away from Heather’s shaking frame.

“More’s the pity.”

Mike laughed softly. “You know, it looked very weird seeing you in midair like that,” he said, pressing a kiss to Heather’s head.

The Captain froze mid-insult. “What did he just say?”

“Who was it?” Mike continued.

“Ju’n.”

“Julian? Well, thank you, Julian.” Mike hesitated. “Is he still here?”

Heather nodded, yawning through her tears.

“Julian? Is it true?” The Captain asked, lowering his voice to a kinder level.

Julian nodded slowly.

“How?”

“I don’t know.”

“You want to go get some ice cream?” Mike asked.

Heather’s choking tears stopped at last, and she nodded as she wiped them away. The Captain and Julian watched in relative silence until she and Mike had made it safely down the stairs.

“I don’t know what happened,” Julian said. “Don’t press it.” He stepped away and tried to phase through the wall, but the Captain reached out and grabbed him by the wrist.

“You saved her life?” He asked, pulling Julian to face him.

“I suppose so,” Julian sniffed, his eyes subconsciously flickering down to the Captain’s lips. He’d pulled them so close that their noses were almost touching. “Comfortable, are you?”

The Captain swallowed and stepped away. “I… apologise,” he muttered. “But my point stands. What happened?”

Julian rolled his eyes. “She tripped. She fell. I don’t know what happened but I caught her.”

“You shouldn’t be able to-”

“I know I shouldn’t be able to,” Julian snarled, ripping his wrist free of the Captain’s grasp. “I don’t know how I did it.”

“Good lord,” he hissed under his breath. “Julian-”

“You’re welcome.”

The Captain stared at the empty corridor, and sighed.

“Thank you?”

“Bit late” Humphrey said, patting him on the shoulder. “Come on. If we’re lucky, we might be able to stare at the ice cream while they eat it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on holiday this week so I'm uploading early in case there's no internet... don't forget to leave a comment xxx


	11. December 2025

Handpicked chestnuts lay ready for roasting on the open fire, three pairs of wellies dripping melting slow onto the hard tiled floor as Heather and her family made their way back into the warm kitchen. Heather wiggled her toes inside her fluffy slippers, climbing up to sit at the table as her dad started cooking the chestnuts and her mum deposited Nell in her high chair.

“So,” Alison said. “Hot chocolate?”

Heather nodded frantically, jumping up and down on her seat at the mere mention of a warm cup of chocolatey, sugary milk. “Yes, yes yes!”

“What’s the magic word?”

“Please?” Heather said, dragging the word out until the single syllable had become a high pitched wail that cut through the air.

Alison stuck out her lower lip, scrunching up her face. “Hm, I’m not sure…”

“Please please please please-”

“Peas,” Nell said, chewing on her hand.

“Well, seeing as Nell asked so nicely…” Alison said, her voice light.

Heather’s face fell. “Please thank you you’re welcome bestest mummy ever?”

“That’s more like it. You know what,” she added, eyes sparkling. “I’ll even throw in a marshmallow.”

Heather clasped her hands to her cheeks. “Bestest _bestest_ mummy?” She said. “Can I have two?”

Alison and Mike burst into laughter and the pan of heating milk started to bubble. Two minutes later and the four of them were sat around the table with steaming mugs of hot chocolate and a pile of chestnuts in the middle. Nell’s mug was considerably smaller and less steaming, and Heather’s was cooled substantially, but the warm smell of chocolate permeated the room regardless.

Soon enough, all the ghosts had congregated around them, and several - Thomas - were sighing dramatically as they lamented the foods of lives past. Lives _long_ past, in several of their cases. Even Julian had lived a very long time ago, by Heather’s standards. Robin must be practically… a hundred.

“Oh sweet, torturous existence,” Thomas moaned. “Why must you haunt me with these delectable smells? Alison, my love-”

“Tortoise?” Heather interrupted. “Why a tortoise?”

“No, tortuous,” Thomas said, snapping out of his dramatic fit of woe. “It means miserable, sad, painful. Smelling your sweet cocoa without ever being able to drink.” He sighed heavily, and Heather considered his words, taking a big gulp of her drink.

She set the cup down, revealing a long line of hot chocolate smeared across her upper lip and Alison had to stifle her laugher. “I thought a tortoise was an animal.”

 

The relative calm of their post-walk drinks didn’t last long, however; Christmas was fast approaching and with it a lot of stress. Nell was whiney and tearful, Alison at her wits end trying to deal with guests and presents and the baby, Mike losing his head trying to deal with Alison, and Heather hated the shouting, even when they tried to stay quiet.

She’d taken a book home from school for the holidays, but she’d already read it three times and could recite it from memory, so didn’t see the point in flipping through it again. She drummed her fingers against the table, playing with the pages, but jumped and ripped one as Alison yelled in frustration from another room.

“Oh no,” she mumbled, tears beginning to form in her eyes. “Bad bad bad bad bad. No, no. I’ll fix it.”

She slid down from her seat, reaching up to pick the book back up, and rummaged through the kitchen drawers that she could reach. Sticky tape… no, no, no, no - top drawer was cutlery so it didn’t matter that she couldn’t reach it. Someone else must have it. She frowned. “Mummy,” she muttered. “Mummy will know.”

Unfortunately, Mary intercepted her as she made her way up to her parents’ bedroom. “Oh, hello, Heather. Where are yous going?” She asked.

“To find mummy,” she said. “I broked it,” she added, holding up the book.

“Um, well, your mother’s busy. Whys don’t yous do somethings else?”

She rolled her eyes. “There’s nothing _to_ do,” she said. “‘M bored.”

Mary frowned. “ _Nothing_ to do?”

She shook her head. “Not one thing.”

“How’s about two things?”

“No. Not one, not two, not… a hundred.”

“Well… Why don’t we finds something to do? I can teach yous how to knits.”

Heather frowned. “I need to fix the book,” she said. “It’s not mine, I’m bad for breaking it.”

“Yes, well, it was an accident, right? I’m sures it’ll bes fine.”

“Mummy-”

“Mummy’s busy,” Mary said.

Heather’s eyes began to fill with tears again, which began to spill over onto her cheeks as she got angrier with herself. She wasn’t normally a crier! She was a big girl. She could handle it. But the constant arguing and sniping had built up, more than she’d realised, and for once, everything was just too much.

“Oh now, let’s have none of that. Can yous be a big girl?”

“I am a big girl,” Heather sobbed. “I I I I I have to fix it!”

“Well, can you fix it later?”

“No,” she wailed. “No, I’m bad.”

“Oh, Heather… Alison can’t help right now, she said you absolutely weren’t to come in. Whats do yous need?”

“Sticky tape.”

“You can’t find it?” Mary asked. “Oh, well. No, yous wouldn’t.”

Heather stepped towards the door and Mary carefully intercepted her again. “Why don’ts yous ask your father for help?”

“Thomas says I I I I I’m indy-pendant.”

Mary smiled softly and crouched down to eye level, a waft of smoke drifting up Heather’s nose. She tried not to sneeze, wiping her eyes as Mary spoke. “Yous can be independent and still ask for help whens you needs it. Askings for help can be much braver than not. Yous don’t have to do everything alone.”

“I don’t?”

Mary shook her head. “Shalls we finds your father?”

“Mummy.”

“No, Mummy’s busy. Come on. Quickly now.”

Heather giggled but obediently followed Mary, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Quick now,” she mumbled quietly as they wandered downstairs.

 

Heather and Mary found Mike in the drawing room, trying to pin tinsel to the ceiling. “Go on,” Mary said.

Heather nodded and cleared her throat. “Daddy,” she began, sniffing.

“Yes, Heather?”

“I broked it.”

Mike stifled a sigh and climbed down the ladder. He turned to Heather with a bright smile. “What did you break?”

“The book,” she said, holding it out. “I I didn’t mean to.”

“I know, it’s okay. Have you tried to fix it?”

She shook her head, her lower lip trembling. “No sticky tape.”

“Well, how about I fix it for you? Is that okay?”

Heather furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t know.”

“Why not?”

“I broked it so I should fix it.”

“You asked me for help,” Mike said kindly. “That counts.”

Heather smiled. “Thank you, daddy,” she said, handing him the book and throwing her arms around him.

“No problem, Heather. Hey, why don't you get Thomas to tell you a story? If you're bored of that one."

Heather beamed. Of course, she thought. Thomas could tell  _much_ better stories than her books. "C'mon," she said to Mary.

"Oh, yous wants me there?"

She nodded. "You can listen."

"Well, I's not-"

"Come on. Quick now."

"Have fun, Heather," Mike said, and waved absently, already ascending the ladder again. Mary sighed and followed Heather out of the room.


	12. June 2026

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> heather has her first "crush" and proceeds to act like an idiot

Heather bounded out of the car as soon as Alison opened the door and unstrapped her from her seat, skipping down the long drive with a big smile on her face. Kitty and the Captain were waiting by the door, chatting, and greeted her with bemused smiles.

“You’re happy today,” the Captain remarked. “Did something good happen?”

Heather giggled conspiratorially. “No,” she said, dragging the syllable out naughtily, then giggling again.

The Captain exchanged a glance with Kitty, who shrugged, and they turned around to go back inside.

“Kitty,” Heather said. “I want to talk to you.”

Both ghosts stopped.

“Only Kitty,” Heather reiterated. “’S about _boys_.”

The Captain flushed and Kitty furrowed her eyebrows slightly. “Alright,” she said, and the Captain vanished inside.

Heather grinned up at Kitty and bounded into the house, glancing around dramatically to ascertain that the coast was clear.

“So,” Kitty said. “What did you want to talk about?”

“There’s a boy at school,” Heather whispered loudly.

“So I hear,” Kitty replied. “Apparently schools are mixed now. It’s rather exciting, don’t you think?”

“No,” Heather sighed, clapping her hands to her cheeks and rolling her eyebrows. “A _boy_. You know.”

“Oh, a boy you like?”

Heather pressed a finger to her lips and shushed her, spraying a thin mist of spit across the room. Kitty was momentarily thankful that she had no corporeal form.

“Not a boy you like, then?”

“Well,” Heather said, tossing her hair. “Maybe. He’s called Noah,” she said, and giggled.

“Is he nice?”

Heather nodded, skipping up the stairs in pairs.

“Careful!”

“I’m okay.”

“I can still be worried. Come on, tell me about Noah.”

“He’s very pretty,” Heather said. “He has pink hair because his mummies let him dye it, and I think that pink hair is the best colour hair.”

Kitty mulled this over for a moment. “What about blue hair?”

Heather pulled a face. “Blue is for _boys_.”

“I thought you liked boys.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Besides, blue was a girl’s colour when I grew up.”

“Really?”

Kitty nodded. “It’s soft and pretty, like girls. Red is strong and angry, like boys.”

“Noah isn’t angry. And I’m stronger than him. So I should be red. What about pink?”

“Pink is like red, a bit.”

“I suppose. It’s prettier though. So it’s strong _and_ pretty, like me!”

“There you go. It is a bit outdated,” Kitty agreed. “All colours should be for everyone.”

“What’s your favourite colour?”

Kitty thought. “Yellow,” she said. “Like sunflowers.”

“Or pineapple. Or bananas!”

“Or dandelions?”

“Birds.”

“Birds?”

“Yeah, yellow birds.”

Kitty laughed. “Alright then. What about you? What’s your favourite colour?”

Heather clasped her hands together, narrowing her eyes as she thought. “Pink,” she said.

“Like Noah’s hair?”

“No! Like… ras-bies.”

“Raspberries? Oh, how lovely,” Kitty sighed wistfully. “Like my favourite dress, when I was alive.”

“Is it still here?”

“I don’t think so.”

“In the attic?”

“I suppose it might be. Your mummy didn’t show me everything she found.”

“We can look,” Heather said. “If you want?”

“Yes,” Kitty said, her heart fluttering. “Yes, I would like that.”

Heather reached out to take Kitty’s hand, hissing in annoyance when she remembered that it still wasn’t possible, then led her up to the attic.

 

Heather rapped her knuckles against the door and, hearing no response, gestured for Kitty to go first. The young - sort of - ghost phased through the closed door; Heather stared after her for several moments, tiredness and general undirected rage building up, and decided that if they could do it, so could she.

She took a deep breath, tried to imagine that she was dead, and stepped forwards with her eyes closed. It was working! It was working, how amazing! She could walk through walls-

Her head hit the wooden door and she recoiled backwards, landing on her bottom and bursting into tears.

Kitty reappeared immediately, and as if summoned by the tears, the Captain, Thomas and Julian joined them.

“I say,” the Captain snapped. “What happened? Katherine?”

“I don’t know,” Kitty said. “One minute we were talking, and the next she was crying.”

“Nothing else happened?” Julian pressed.

Kitty smiled awkwardly. “Well, we were walking into the attic.”

“So what? She followed you?”

“I don’t know! I’d already gone through.”

“Kitty, that’s not helpful.”

“I’m sorry, Thomas. Really, but I didn’t see.”

“You know she tries to copy what you do, Kitty. You ought to try harder,” the Captain said. “It’s not good enough.”

Heather sniffed loudly, wiping away her tears, and reached out towards Kitty.

“Oh, Heather,” Kitty said. “You know I can’t hug you.”

“I know,” Heather sniffed. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, sweetheart.”

“Or yours. I’m sorry.”

The Captain bit his lip. “Well, if you’re alright, Heather, I suppose I ought to apologise to Katherine.”

“Kitty, yes.”

The Captain cleared his throat, and the other two men looked down at their feet as all three mumbled an apology, then disappeared back into the house.

“Dress,” Heather mumbled.

“What’s that?”

“We find your dress. Come ’n,” Heather said, sighing before she pushed the door open. She managed to walk through successfully this time, and if she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine that she too could walk through walls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi pls comment also ty for reading!


	13. sept 2026

Heather absently fastened and unfastened the velcro of her plimsole as she listened to Miss Thompson. She was deathly bored, but did her best to hide it; she liked Miss Thompson a lot, and didn’t want to upset her, even though Year One wasn’t looking great so far. In reception, they’d had lots of time to play and make things, and now they had to do _maths_. And French! And history, but she was quite good at history. 

In fact, she knew more than anyone in the class about tanks, the Stone Age and Georgian women’s clothing. And the eighties, which were - by her standard - ancient history. So were the early 2000s; if there were ghosts from then, it must be a long time ago. Her reasoning hadn’t failed her yet, although she hadn’t actually managed to wrangle Julian into everyday conversation. Alison was endlessly grateful for this, but had decided not to _tell_ Heather as such for at least eight more years, in order to avoid an awkward conversation.

“So, I’d like you all to draw a picture of your family,” Miss Thompson was saying. “And, if you can, write down all of their names. We won’t be using books today, as they haven’t arrived yet, but that means you can all take your pictures home to show you’re grown ups. Uh,” she cut the children off, raising her voice ever so slightly as thirty children tried to get up at once. “Any questions?”

Gracie had her hand in the air. Heather grinned at her as she caught her friend’s eye.

“One second, sorry Gracie. Heather, we’re listening now, aren’t we? Can we sit quietly while Gracie asks her question?”

Heather bit her lip and nodded anxiously, sitting up straight.

Miss Thompson smiled. “Thank you, Heather. Yes, Gracie?”

“How do you spell Agathangelos?”

Miss Thompson blinked. “Who’s that?”

“My cat.”

“Well, how about you draw the human members of your family first?”

Gracie sighed dramatically. “Agathangelos is my favourite family member.”

“Well, I can’t wait to see a picture of him. I’ll come around later and help you spell it correctly. Now, front row, up you get,” she began, the classroom erupting into noise as eight children jumped to their feet and stumbled over knees and feet to reach the tables.

 

Heather took a sheet of blank paper from Eddie, who Miss Thompson had asked to hand out the paper, and a pencil from the pot in the middle of the table. It was blunt, so she took another one, which was also blunt. The third one she picked was very short, but had a little bit of lead left, so she settled back in her seat and began drawing.

First, herself, obviously. A circle for the head, eyes - with very long eyelashes, because she was pretty - and a big smile, then a dress. Next to her, mummy. Circle, dress, eyes and a smile. Daddy, who she drew two legs for instead of a dress. And Nell, she remembered, with a frown. She drew Nell sat at Alison’s feet, a miserable glower on the two year old’s face.

The Captain came next, featuring an impressive moustache that looked a bit like a sad face, then Thomas, with curly hair. Julian, although she couldn’t work out how to draw his suit jacket, so left it out completely. Then Kitty, featuring several bows on her dress; Robin, with spiky hair; and Pat, featuring an arrow through his neck. Fanny, her hair tied up in a severe bun, frowning; then Mary, her lips parted in a look of confusion. Last, but not least, she drew Humphrey’s head, a solitary circle in the middle of the page, not quite resting on the floor.

Now for names; the hard bit. She worked methodically, left to right, too late realising that she couldn’t fit all the names on one line. Pat, Kitty, Tomas, Captin, Mumy (with the third ‘m’ added belatedly), Nell, ME!, Humfry (an arrow pointing at the circle of his head), daddy, Julian, Robbin, Fanny and Mary. It was a good attempt, by all accounts; the names were mostly recognisable - although not to Miss Thompson.

“Wow, Heather. You have a lot of family members.” She said as Heather presented her proudly with the drawing.

Heather shook her head. “No, they live with us.”

Miss Thompson counted quickly. “Eight- eight people and a decapitated head?”

“De… decapitated?”

“Chopped off.”

“Oh, his body is a bit naughty. And there’re more people in the basement.”

“There are… okay, Heather.” Miss Thompson smiled. “You have a fantastic imagination.”

Heather stared at her for several moments too long, and Miss Thompson glanced away, her long brown hair falling over her shoulder.

“Well, I’m sure your mummy and daddy will love it. Is that your little sister?” Her perfectly manicured nail scraped along the paper.

“Nell,” Heather replied.

“Why’s she unhappy?”

Heather shrugged. “She cries a lot. And everyone likes her more than me. But not in this one.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true. Your parents are probably just busy.”

“The Captain likes babies.”

“The… Captain?”

Heather nodded. “He was a soldier.”

Miss Thompson forced a smile. “Well, it’s a lovely picture. Do you want to read a book while we wait for everyone else to finish?”

Heather nodded excitedly and placed her book on the small pile of completed work, rushing over to the bookshelf to pick something to read. _Mog’s Christmas Calamity_ , she read, pudgy fingers gliding over the title. Perfect.

 

Miss Thompson held Heather back as the rest of her class changed shoes at the end of school. “Heather, who’s collecting you today?”

“Mummy,” Heather said.

“Could you get her for me? I’d like to talk to her.”

Heather nodded with a smile. “Yes Miss Thompson.”

Five minutes later, Alison walked into the classroom, idly pulling Heather onto her lap as she perched on a table, waiting for the rest of the kids to leave. Heather waved violently at Gracie and Ed as their mums came to pick them up, and Alison ran her fingers lightly through Heather’s hair. Nell took a seat on the floor, beaming up at Miss Thompson.

“Is there anything wrong?” Alison asked. “I hope Heather hasn’t been misbehaving.”

Miss Thompson shook her head. “She has a very active imagination, doesn’t she?”

Alison and Heather exchanged a glance. Heather grinned shiftily.

“You could say that,” Alison ventured.

“How many people live at home with you, Mrs Cooper?”

“Is that a strictly necessary question?”

Miss Thompson hesitated. “I suppose not. We were drawing family portraits today, that’s all.”

“Right.”

“And Heather has a surprising number of people in hers.” She pulled out the picture. Alison tried not to smile. “Including a decapitated head.”

“I’m more concerned about her spelling of ‘Humphrey’,” Alison replied, reaching out. “And ‘Captain’, ‘Thomas’ and ‘Robin’. Isn’t it normal for young children to have imaginary friends?”

Miss Thompson - apparently reluctantly - handed over the portrait as Heather frowned. “They’re not-”

Alison cleared her throat, shaking her head slightly. “She does have an active imagination, but it’s nice that she feels like she has such a big family. I’m an only child and she only has one grandparent left, you see.” She handed the portrait to Heather. “You keep a hold of that, okay?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Miss Thompson said.

“It’s not your fault,” Alison replied. “At least I hope it isn’t. That was a joke, by the way,” she added.

“Oh, yes.” Miss Thompson forced a smile to her face. “Well, I won’t detain you any longer. Thank you for your time.”

“That’s alright,” Alison said with a smile. She got to her feet, scooping Nell onto her hip and taking Heather’s hand with her spare arm. Miss Thompson followed suit, and held the door for her.

“By the way,” the teacher added, as Alison stepped outside. “If you ever need to talk- if anything’s overwhelming… feel free to drop by.”

Alison smiled again, although her expression became slightly glazed. “Of course. Thank you, Miss Thompson.”

“Any time.”

 

Heather skipped up the driveway, slightly crumpled portrait in hand, followed at some distance by Alison and Nell. She jumped to try and reach the doorbell, then settled for knocking. She needn’t have bothered, though, as by the time Mike arrived at the door, Alison had set Nell down and unlocked it herself.

“I drawed a picture,” Heather said, holding it out for Mike.

He glanced at it, then looked at it in more detail. “I like Kitty’s dress,” he said.

“Me too!”

“Is Nell frowning?”

Heather blinked innocently, and turned to look at her sister. Nell’s face, was faintly expressionless, so Heather shrugged. “Pretty much.”

Mike rolled his eyes. “Shall we put this on the fridge?”

“Yes,” Heather cried. “On the fridge!”

The two of them marched down to the kitchen, holding the portrait aloft, followed by Alison, a soft smile on her face, and Nell, her hand in Alison’s.

They arrived in the kitchen, and Mike rummaged through a box of magnets, pulling out a pink unicorn. Heather shook her head. He thought again, and pulled out a crown. Heather nodded, and reached for it.

By this point, the general pomp of the fridge-displaying ceremony had permeated throughout the house and caught the attention of the ghosts, who congregated around the family. Mike held the paper against the fridge and handed Heather the magnet. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, and placed the magnet on top of the portrait. The two of them stepped back.

“Perfect,” Mike said.

Heather nodded. “Just right.”

They turned to each other and high-fived, then Mike picked her up and spun her around. She giggled dizzily until he set her down on the kitchen table, both of them panting for breath between laughs.

“What did you draw today, Heather?” Pat asked, trying to step around the living family members and failing.

“Fam’ly portrait,” Heather said. She slid down from the table, to Mike’s slight surprise, and hurried over to the fridge. “Look, it’s me and mummy and daddy and everyone else. And Nell.”

The ghosts crowded around, scanning the pencil scribbles.

“I say, is that- does my moustache look like _that_?”

“Sort of,” Pat shrugged. “Don’t worry, she’s drawn the arrow through my neck.”

“Oh, Heather,” Kitty gushed. “My dress looks wonderful! Look at all the bows!”

“Is that really me?” Fanny asked, frowning at the boxy stick-figure depiction of herself. “Why do I look so miserable?”

Thomas exchanged a look with Julian.

“Oh, come off it,” she snapped. “I don’t look like that.”

“Yes, well I don’t exactly look like five lines and a circle, but you don’t see me complaining,” Julian replied. “Although I notice that I am bald in this.”

“So’s the Captain,” Thomas replied.

Robin grunted. “I think… pretty accurate,” he said. “Baby frown-y. Very true.”

Heather grinned. “See?”

The ghosts grinned with varying degrees of sheepishness.

“I do like it, Heather, really, it’s lovely,” Kitty said.

“Aye, it’s nice to sees us all together likes thats,” Mary nodded.

“And quite lovely to hear that you think of us as family,” the Captain added.

“And how few clothes you think we wear. I wish-” Julian said, but was cut off by glares from everyone around.

Mike wandered back over to the fridge and ruffled Heather’s hair. “It’s very artistic,” he said. “Does Kitty’s dress really have all those bows?”

Heather nodded. “They’re pink,” she said.

“Wow. Tell her I think her dress is lovely.”

“Oh, thank you!” Kitty said, blushing.

Heather giggled. “She says thank you. She’s gone pink,” she added in a loud whisper.

“What about the others?”

“Pat’s a scout-”

“With the arrow? I remember. Thomas is the… caveman?”

Thomas almost gagged, and Julian cracked up.

“Thomas is the _writer_ , daddy,” Heather corrected. “Robin is the caveman.”

“The Captain is the soldier, obviously. Julian is the politician, and honestly, I think your mother should have said something about him being around kids,” Mike said, frowning. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of this until now. I remember his death.”

Julian blanched. “Oh dear,” he said. “Perhaps I should go.”

Heather giggled. “Who else, daddy?”

“Kitty’s Georgian so Mary must be… the Stuart? And Fanny’s the Victorian.”

“Humphrey?”

“You’ve only drawn a head. That’s as good a clue as any. Now, come on. Dinner?”

Heather thought. “Lasag-nee?”

“Lasagne? Yeah, alright. I’ll cook that, why don’t you go and read to your mother?”

Heather jumped, and ran to get her book bag. She returned within a minute. “I got a new book,” she said, struggling to take it out of the bag. “Red: a Crayon’s Story.”

Mike raised an eyebrow, and pulled out a chair for her. “Sounds interesting. Alright then, you read and I’ll cook. Can someone help you with the long words?”

“Thomas?” Heather said, looking around. He smiled warmly, and she pulled out a chair for him before climbing into her own and beginning to read.

 


	14. February 2027

Robin had a real skill for seeming to appear from nowhere - the other ghosts tended to make at least a little noise, or were at least more noticeable when they arrived, but Robin… Alison wasn’t sure if he’d been there for five seconds or five minutes when she finally noticed him, but he was staring intently at the cereal her children were scoffing down.

“You alright, Robin?” She asked between mouthfuls of toast.

Heather glanced up and beamed, a dribble of milk escaping from the gap of her missing tooth.

Alison sighed. “Heather, eat with your mouth shut.”

Heather looked balefully at her mum, to no effect. Alison raised her eyebrows and Heather obediently continued eating like a functional human.

“Robin,” Alison said again. “Fire ahead.”

“Moonah,” he said. “Uhhhh… eclipse.”

Heather dropped her spoon with a loud clatter. “It’s the lunar eclipse?”

Alison shrugged. “Apparently.”

“I didn’t know!”

“Why do you want to know?”

“It’s very important,” Heather said seriously, pushing her bowl away and sliding down from her chair so she could join in the conversation. “It’s the right time to worship Moonah.”

“Right,” Alison said slowly, unconvinced.

“Really! Robin told me about it as a baby. The moon is _almost_ as old as Robin-”

“I think you mean the other way around.”

Heather frowned. “No.”

Robin’s eyes flickered between them as he tried to keep up with the conversation. “Yes,” he said.

“To who?” Alison asked.

“Uhh, Moonah is older.”

Heather frowned. “Well, it’s still fairly close.”

“Sure,” Robin shrugged.

“Oh, just wait til you do physics in school,” Alison muttered. “Anyway, go on.”

“If it’s the lunar eclipse,” Heather said, stumbling over some of the words in her excitement, “it means we have to do the Ritual.” Somehow, she managed to enunciate the capital letter. She glanced at Robin, who nodded.

“What she said.”

“Would this be the running-around-the-table-shouting ritual?”

Robin shrugged. “Maybe,” he allowed.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Well, we haven’t got guests. I don’t see why not.”

“Mummy mummy mummy, can I join in?” Heather cried.

“What time is the eclipse?”

Robin thought for a moment, counting on his fingers. “Nine til one. Maximum at… twelve an’ lot past eleven.”

“Twelve and a lot?”

“Close to… thirteen.”

Alison looked it up quickly. “Twelve minutes and fifty seconds past eleven.”

“Twelve an’ lot.”

“I’ll take it,” she said. “But no.”

“No?” Robin cried.

“No?” Heather echoed, indignant.

“Heather, what time is bedtime?”

“Midnight.”

“No. Nell, what time is your sister’s bedtime?”

Nell looked over. She frowned, then held up two sticky hands, all ten digits extended.

“No. Seven thirty sharp.”

“Eight?”

Alison raised her eyebrows.

“But mummy-”

“No. You’ll be too tired tomorrow.”

“It’s Saturday,” Heather said coyly. “No school. And it’s holiday next week.” She grinned, as if she’d already won.

She had. “Alright,” Alison said with a sigh. “You can stay up. But only until quarter past eleven. And you’re in pyjamas by seven thirty as normal.”

Heather beamed and wrapped her arms around Alison’s legs. “Thank you, mummy!”

Alison threaded her fingers gently through Heather’s hair. “Have you finished breakfast?”

Heather glanced back at her now soggy cereal and hummed noncommittally.

“Alright, go and get washed,” Alison said, pulling her fingers out of Heather’s hair and tapping her shoulders gently. “I’ll sort out this. Don’t forget to brush your teeth. And your hair.”

Heather nodded and ran out of the room.

Alison sighed, shooting Robin a tired smile as she cleared away Heather’s breakfast. He stared wordlessly at her and vanished. She sighed again.

 

Heather was yawning by eight o’clock. She was regretting her decision to stay up by ten past. By half nine, she was in bed, sleeping soundly, Nell fast asleep in the bedroom next door.

Alison glanced at her watch, catching Mike’s eye. It was ten to eleven, and if she was honest, she already wanted to go to bed. But the two of them had dutifully rearranged the furniture for Robin, and they had promised Heather that she would be allowed to do the ritual.

“Should we wake her?”

Mike yawned. “You did promise.”

“Yeah, but she’s asleep already. I don’t want to get her all excited.”

“We can sleep in tomorrow.” Mike smiled tiredly and brushed his fingers along her hand. “It’s up to you, Allie.”

Robin appeared. “Where is child?”

“She has a name, Robin,” Alison sighed.

“Heather. Is coming?”

“I’ll go and get her.”

Robin smiled, apparently satisfied.

“You can go to bed, if you want,” Alison said as she turned to leave.

“Oh, no,” Mike said. “I want to see this.”

Alison laughed and left.

“So,” Mike said, staring away from Robin. “Lovely weather, isn’t it?”

Robin sighed. “Idiot,” he muttered, shaking his head, and went to find the rest of the ghosts.

 

By the time Alison had woken Heather, the eclipse was nearing it’s maximum, and the ghosts - led by Robin - were loudly chanting as they paraded through the house.

Heather frowned sleepily. “I missed it?”

“Only the start,” Alison said. “Come on, quickly.”

She took Heather by the hand and led her to the dining room, but halted as they passed Nell’s room. A faint cry passed into the corridor.

“Wait here,” Alison said.

“But the ritual-”

“Wait here.”

Two minutes later, Alison had one child on each hand, and they’d found the train of ghosts parading down the stairs. Heather’s face lit up as Robin grinned at her, and she watched them dance past for a few moments before parroting their movement.

“Moonah stonah,” she said, testing out the syllables. She giggled, lifting her legs in the air. “Moonah stonah, moonah stonah!”

Nell’s tears quickly faded as she watched her sister, and Mike appeared, having followed the sound of Heather’s chanting.

“Moonah stonah?” Mike asked.

“Robin worships the moon.”

“Moonah stonah,” Nell said. Heather’s face cracked into an even wider smile and she dropped into a crouch.

“Like this,” Heather said, gently lifting Nell’s leg with her hand. She let go, and moved her own leg. Nell watched, thought for a moment, then copied the movement. “Well done!” Heather cried. “Come on, we’ll miss it! Moonah stonah, moonah stonah.”

“Moonah stonah,” Nell mimicked, picking up her legs then bursting into giggles. She hopped and skipped to the stairs, but Alison swept her off her feet before she fell. “Mummy!”

“No playing on the stairs.”

They reached the bottom quickly, however, and soon caught up with the others, despite the dance-like arrhythmia of their gait. Despite Alison’s despairing look, Mike joined in, chanting loudly as he followed his daughters outside.

When Robin noticed Nell and Mike joining in, he thought he might cry. His cry to the moon trembled slightly, wavering for the first time in millennia, at the sight of living humans performing his holy rituals. He never thought he’d have seen it again.

Moonah must have noticed, he thought, for the Coopers arrived at the ghosts’ chair at the exact moment of maximum eclipse.

“Look up,” he whispered to Heather, taking a seat beside her. “Moonah… moonah say thank you.”

“She’s beautiful,” Heather whispered, her mouth slightly ajar. She turned her head at the sound of a slight sniffle.

Robin had failed to hold back his tears; his eyes were shining and tear tracks glittered down his cheeks. “Thank you, Heather,” he grunted. “An’… family.”

Heather smiled gently, and leant over to whisper in her dad’s ear, “Robin says thank you.” She wouldn’t tell her sister, not yet. Nell didn’t understand why Heather and their mother behaved the way they did, but it was easier to say that they were just weird than to explain that her family could see dead people and she couldn’t.

“Thank you,” Heather said. “And thank Moonah. She’s beautiful.”

Robin nodded, and they watched in silence until the earth’s shadow had shifted significantly away.

 

 

Heather stretched out her back, trying to conceal a yawn. She glanced over at Nell, who was sat squished between her and Mike, and stifled a laugh. Nell had fallen asleep completely, and even Alison was dozing. She tapped her dad on the shoulder and he stirred.

“We done?”

She nodded. “For today.”

Mike glanced at his watch, then sighed. “You’re telling me. Come on, back to bed.” He shook Alison lightly and she started awake.

The four of them returned to the house, Mike holding Nell’s hand and Alison holding Heather’s.

“Thank you, mummy,” Heather whispered as she crawled back into bed.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

“Did you like it?”

“It was pretty,” Alison allowed.

Heather smiled. That was all she would get tonight, but perhaps it was enough.

That night, she dreamt of pearly white gardens and the gentle kisses of a moon goddess. She woke the next morning with a warmth in her heart and a smile on her face.


	15. September 2027

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> goodness me, 2027 already? this is one of my fav plots so I hope you enjoy! please leave a comment x

The Captain cleared his throat in lieu of knocking, and phased through the door into Alison’s study. He took a seat on the armchair in front of her desk and waited politely for her to finish speaking into the telephone.

“Yes, no… no, Robert, I really have to… well yes, I do think it’s a good idea- yes I _understand_ that… No, don’t be- okay, don’t then.” She sighed heavily. “I’m just saying, you don’t have to veto it yet. Yes, I know he’s not finished yet, but… I’m just saying, you can give him more time… no I don’t like him more than you… Oh, come on. No. No. Robert, this is getting silly… no… I have to go. Robert…” She scrunched up her face, holding the phone away from her mouth as she sighed again. “I have to go. I’m going to- I’m going to hang up now. Yes, yes I am. Call me back when you’ve made a decision- Robert- Robert?”

She placed the phone down and groaned loudly. “Yes, Captain?”

“I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

She looked at him for a moment, her eyes dead and eyebrows raised. “Sure. Go on.”

“Well, it’s about Heather.”

“What’s she done this time?”

“Oh, nothing. Only, she’s at school now, and-”

“Yes, I hope so.”

“Well-”

The phone began to ring. Alison picked it up. “Hello? Oh, Andy. Hm. Yes, I just spoke to Robert. No I- No, I’ll call you back. Yeah. Give me a few minutes. Okay. Buh-bye.” She turned back to the Captain, hanging up. “Go on. Quickly.”

“I thought she ought to be able to protect herself, that’s all.”

“She’s at school, I’m sure she’s fine.”

“Well, I can’t be there with her, is all.”

“It’s not like you can _do_ anything at home. Oh,” she added. “That was mean, I’m sorry. I’m a bit stressed, that’s all. Go on, what do you suggest?”

“I thought perhaps for her birthday, you should get her a gun. It’s coming up soon and-”

Alison burst out laughing.

The Captain frowned, affronted. “Alison, I fail to see how-”

“No.”

“She needs to be able to fight any Germans-”

“I hope not! Her best friend is half German.”

The Captain recoiled. “Good lord, who on earth is running schools these days? All the more reason-”

“Cap, please. All the Germans I know are lovely.”

“Well- I- good lord,” he spluttered.

“It’s not the forties any more, Cap,” Alison said, somewhat sympathetically.

“I- I know that, woman.”

“Is that all you had to say? I am quite busy, actually.”

“I- well, I suppose so.”

“Excellent. You can show yourself out.” Alison smiled tightly and picked up the phone. “Andy, yes. No, I think your plan does have merit, but it’s a bit underdeveloped-”

The Captain sat and spluttered for a few moments, but when Alison paid him no heed, he left the room to think. He needed a better plan of action.

 

Alison washed up as Heather and Nell ate their dinner - spaghetti bolognese, which she was already regretting, flecks of tomato sauce splattering the table. The two girls had almost finished when the Captain walked in and leant against the fridge. Alison tried not to sigh, and forced a smile to her face.

“Alright, Cap?”

“Alison, about our conversation earlier-”

“No,” Alison said sharply, her eyes darting over to Heather. The movement was not lost on the nearly seven year old, who pricked up her ears.

The Captain didn’t allow himself to smile, but his stomach twisted triumphantly. “I didn’t mean a real gun.”

“She’s not having a gun.”

“I meant a BB gun.”

“No!”

“She should learn how to defend herself!”

“Guns aren’t legal.”

“You have land. It’s for hunting. Besides, what harm can a BB gun do, really?”

“Quite a lot. She’s not having one.”

“Why not, mummy?” Heather butted in.

“It’s not safe.”

“Self defence.”

“No.”

“Alison, be reasonable,” the Captain said.

“He wants you to shoot Germans,” Alison said. “Would you shoot Chiara?”

“No,” Heather said. “But she won’t hurt me, so I don’t need to.”

“See,” the Captain said, pointing at her. “Sensible decision making.”

“She’s six, Cap. Six.”

“Exactly! The perfect age to learn-”

“No.”

Mike poked his head in through the door. “Everything alright?”

“Completely,” the Captain said, although Mike of course couldn’t hear.

“Mummy won’t let me get a gun,” Heather said.

Mike frowned and took a seat beside her. “A gun?”

“Only a small one. BB.”

“Why do you want a BB gun?”

“For protection.”

“From what?”

Heather shrugged. “The Captain says so.”

“Right.”

“I’m only saying,” the Captain said, exasperated. “It would be good for her to learn-”

“No!” Alison cried. “It would not be ‘good for her to learn’!”

Mike nodded. “Absolutely not,” he said, staring in the wrong direction.

“But-” Heather began.

“Now _really_ ,” the Captain said.

“No,” Alison said firmly, echoed by Mike.

“My dear woman-”

“Absolutely not. No. Not another word about it.”

“Mummy-”

“Who wants ice cream?” Mike said.

All thoughts of a gun immediately emptied from Heather’s mind and she stuck her hand high in the air. “Me me me meee!” She cried.

“Me,” Nell said. “Meeee.”

Alison sighed. “Ice cream it is, then.”

“Alison-” the Captain implored.

“Not another word,” she hissed in his ear as she walked past him towards the freezer. “No is my final answer.”

He sighed and left the room. He’d have to teach Heather to defend herself another way.


End file.
